Secrets
by Secrets of the Fall
Summary: "Dad, we need to hurry, and we need to call the cops."
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone,**

** So, I'm starting something a little darker than my other fics. This is kind of the prologue, I guess, which might explain why it's so short. Anyhow, like always, enjoy!**

** Glee is not mine, I wish it were, at least the Klaine bits.**

* * *

"Kurt, the phone."

_ "Hello?" _

_ "Kurt, I need you to come here."_

_ "Blaine, what happened? Are you okay?"_

_ "I can't say over the phone, just please come quickly."_

_ "Okay, I'm on my way."_

Kurt hung up, his heart racing as a million scenarios flashed through his head. What happened with Blaine, and why did he call his house phone? He turned around, locking eyes with his dad, "I need to go see Blaine."

"I heard." Burt leaned against the doorway, "Did he say what was wrong?"

"No." Kurt choked back tears, "I need to go." He raced to his room, grabbing his coat and keys, and ignoring his dad's stream of questions.

"Kurt, let me drive you."

"I can drive."

Burt raised a brow, "You can't even see right now."

Kurt huffed, torn between going alone and having someone with him. "Fine," he replied.

As they got into the car, his phone vibrated and as he read the message his eyes widened in horror. "Dad, we need to hurry, and we need to call the cops."

* * *

**Let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi everyone,**

**Thanks for all the reviews, this story came out of nowhere! This chapter is also much longer than the first :D **

**Once again, I do not own glee. **

**Onwards!**

* * *

They drove in silence; Kurt shaking in his seat, while Burt gripped the wheel tightly, his knuckles white.

"It's this right," Kurt said pointing.

The silence cloaked them once more. Kurt saw the flashing lights as the car crawled down the street, and his eyes filled with tears.

Blaine sat in the back of an ambulance. His blazer was streaked with dried blood, and his eyes were puffy from crying. Kurt ran towards him, enveloping him in his arms and letting out a sob. "What happened?"

Blaine couldn't speak though; he tried, but nothing came out. His vocal chords were lost to him, hiding, and no amount of searching would be good enough. He clung to Kurt, letting loose a strangled gasp to feel him so close.

Burt locked the doors and made his way over to the house. Ambulances, police cruisers, and fire trucks lined both sides of the road; yellow tape was being placed around doors and windows; and nosy neighbors were peeking out of windows, their noses pressed to the glass as if Blaine's nightmare was some kind of reality TV show.

He walked up to one of the officers who was taking notes, his forehead creased with concentration.

Blaine strained to hear their conversation, but it was like trying to hear someone when they were above water, and you were under it. His head pounded, and he almost fell asleep in Kurt's arms. Then someone spoke, and he jumped, his heart beating frantically against his ribs. Then, Kurt was gone, and he was being lifted onto his back so he was lying down.

"Just sleep now, everything will be okay," a voice said.

* * *

Kurt didn't want to look at the house; he didn't even want to turn around to face it. He wanted to watch Blaine sleep, staying suspended through time until he was old and gray, and everything would be okay again.

But he couldn't.

He swallowed hard and turned around. The house stared at him, waiting for him to make a move, but he didn't. He just stood frozen until someone (most likely his dad), tugged him along.

"C'mon, let's go to the hospital."

Déjà vu happened again; that silence, it was slowly making Kurt go crazy.

He was shepherded through the halls; alabaster white and smelling like Lysol. The noise was more like a hum in the background, and the chairs felt odd underneath him. A magazine lay on the table to his right, and he laughed at the headline: Celebrity Caught Cheating.

He toyed with the idea of why that article was even in that magazine, but then forgot what he was thinking about a minute later.

A noise sounded; faint but clear across the room. Fingers were drumming against wood, light at first, but becoming louder and louder until his ears ached with the sound and he opened his mouth to complain. Leaning forward to run his hand through his hair, he realized the drumming fingers belonged to him, and he smirked.

"Kurt? How are you holding up?"

He shrugged, his blue eyes empty. He felt empty. Blaine was sitting in a hospital room being bombarded by staff with their probing questions, and he was out here, going crazy.

He wanted to cry, but his eyes felt dry and he was thinking about how tomorrow was a school day and he didn't really want to go. It seemed cold to leave Blaine here, all alone.

_Blaine._ They sang a duet Friday. It was his favorite day of the entire week, and only because he could sing with him forever and never get tired.

"Kurt?"

"I'm okay dad." He ignored the anxious glance, and stared at the clock. The clock was odd though, it wasn't moving. He licked his lips, he was so thirsty, and when was Blaine coming back?

The room darkened, making the shadows stretch from their respective corners. He was pulled from his chair, through the waiting area to a small room where a shape huddled under the blankets.

Tentatively, he stepped forward. He took a deep breath and laid his hand on the lump, feeling comfort from the warmth seeping between his fingers. He curled around Blaine, even smiling when he felt him nestle into his chest. Fatigue overtook him, rushing through his veins and forcing his eyes to shut out the world.

* * *

A few days later, Kurt was back at the hospital, waiting to see Blaine. School was different; meaningless, and of course, rumors had made their way around, changing with each whispered remark like a game of telephone, when finally, the last person to press their ear against a pair of excited lips had a distorted take on reality. A reality that was subjective in the first place.

"What's going on?" he asked, trying to peer through the closed door of Blaine's hospital room.

"I don't know. The FBI is here though, so it's definitely serious." Burt took a few steps so that he was next to his son in the hall, and glanced at him nervously.

"I'm fine dad, I just need to go in there and make sure everything's all right."

Burt placed a hand on his shoulder, "You may want to take a seat for now, Kurt."

Kurt bit his lip. He couldn't see anything anyway, but what if they were making him relive what happened? He sat down, his heart fluttering in his chest as he closed his eyes.

Beyond the closed door, an FBI agent was in the middle of a memory triggering exercise with Blaine. His unconscious mind had blocked the entire incident from his thoughts, and he couldn't remember much of anything.

"You parked your car in the driveway when you got home from school?"

"Yes."

"What did you hear when you turned the engine off?"

"Nothing."

"What did you smell as you stepped out of your car?"

"I-I don't remember."

"That's okay, you're doing really good."

Blaine shifted on the bed, feeling his heart reverberate through his body as he imagined walking up to his door again.

"You're walking up to the door. You take the stairs and stop to take out your keys, but you pause, why do you pause?"

Blaine frowned, "I don't know, it doesn't feel right."

"What doesn't feel right?"

"Again, I don't know," he said, growing frantic.

"Okay. That's okay, you did really good. We're going to take a break okay?"

He nodded.

"You can open your eyes."

He breathed deeply, and opened his eyes to the brightness in the room. "I don't remember," he said again.

She smiled, "It's okay, it's going to take a little while, but you did good."

"Okay."

She turned to gather her coat and notepad, "I'm going to tell your Aunt that she can come back in, and then you can go down for lunch."

He nodded again, and watched her walk towards the door. At the last moment, as her hand grasped the handle he blurted, "How many days has it been?"

She turned, "Since what dear?"

His lips trembled, "Since they died?"

* * *

**That's all for now!**

**We're going to be heading back in time at certain parts during the next couple chapters. Get your time machines ready!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi everyone, **

**Chapter three is here! **

**Glee is not mine...like you didn't know :)**

* * *

"Blaine?"

He was lost. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he was dreaming, and that someone from the real world was calling his name, but he couldn't wake up.

He continued, stumbling down the hall, past distorted doorways and peeling wallpaper. As he came to the last set of doors, realization sunk in and he sighed with relief; his destination was on the right, he could feel it in his veins.

His feet inched forward, as if under weights, and time suddenly slowed. "_No_!" he screamed, but he could already feel his body ripping away from the nightmare.

One more step and he would be able to push the door open! He reached, straining and gasping, his breath coming in short pants, but someone called him again.

As if under water, he surfaced, blinking back his dream and staring at a nervous Kurt.

"Are you okay?"

Blaine rubbed his eyes, his heart hammering in his chest. "I couldn't reach it."

"Reach what?"

"The door."

* * *

_One Month Ago_

_All these tests were sure to put a damper in his days. He had less and less time to spend with Kurt, and that was just not okay. As it was, the only thing he had time for were coffee runs before or after school, and well, there's only so much you can do with coffee. He wanted more, maybe a trip to the movies, dinner…he paused mid thought, that sure wasn't going to happen anytime soon._

_ He shook himself, and continued studying the Civil War, his finger running down the page as he read._

_ Twenty minutes later, there was a loud crash from the kitchen. History test forgotten, he poked his head out the door to listen. _

_ "How many times do I have to remind you that you have to stack the pans according to size!" His mother yelled. There was another loud crash, followed by a sharp swear, and he chose that moment to duck back inside his room. _

_ His parents didn't normally fight; in fact, they probably had one of the healthiest relationships with regards to married couples. He should know, they always reminded him that fifty percent of marriages ended in divorce, and he should be thankful that they were an open, caring family._

* * *

After one long week, Blaine was finally allowed to leave the hospital. He would be living with his maternal Aunt for the time being; something that terrified and comforted him, all at once.

He was currently laying in his bed, tracing the patterns that dotted his ceiling. He still couldn't remember much of anything, but sometimes he wondered if he couldn't remember or if he wouldn't.

He closed his eyes, and rubbed his temples in a furious attempt to remember something, anything!

"Blaine. Are you almost ready for your appointment?"

He sighed and pushed himself up off the bed. No he wasn't ready to sit in a psychologist's office for an hour, and talk about his feelings on an incident that he didn't even remember thank you very much!

As he ran downstairs, he glanced at his phone and saw a text from Kurt that had been sent over an hour ago.

He stood on the lawn, and felt his heart melt. He kept his eyes glued to his phone as he slowly walked to his Aunt's car.

"What's got you smiling like a kid in a candy shop?"

He glanced over at his Aunt, "Oh nothing."

She remained silent, but her raised brows told a whole other story, as she backed out of the driveway.

Blaine looked at his phone again, _"I miss you too Kurt."_

* * *

"Kurt, turn that off."

Kurt leaned forward on his bed, confusion apparent on his face as he watched his dad walk into his room.

Burt strode to the TV and turned it off, the silence ringing in the room. "I'm serious, it will only mess with you."

Kurt decided to agree, "Okay."

"What have you been up to kiddo?"

"Texting Blaine (who seems to have fallen off the face of the earth), doing homework, and attempting to watch the news," he replied leaning back on his hands.

Burt rolled his eyes at his son's last comment but asked, "What do you mean, Blaine seems to have fallen off the face of the earth?"

"Well, he hasn't answered my text." At that moment, his phone vibrated on his dresser, "Until now," he added with a smile.

"Good, I'm glad."

As Burt turned to leave, Kurt opened his mouth, the words rolling off his tongue like he would be sick if he didn't voice them, "It's a double homicide investigation."

Burt looked at him, his eyes dark, "I know."

* * *

Most people in the western world don't like to talk about death; the D-word is swept up under the rug, as they walk out the front door. It isn't mentioned, and is one of the greatest fears that people have; where will I go? What will it be like? Until one day, it hits you, unexpected and unappreciated as it puts everything else in your life at a standstill.

This is how it was for Blaine. Imagine, dealing with the death of a loved one, and then not remembering how they died.

The reality sunk in amidst a sea of black; two shiny caskets lay side by side, and he realized suddenly that their hearts were no longer beating, their lungs no longer taking in oxygen.

The world around him changed, slowed, and his entire focus was on the freshly dug graves in front of him. The earth was wide, gaping, ready to swallow his parents into it's depths. It looked, greedy; if the graves had hands they would have scooped the caskets into their waiting mouths without a second thought.

His eyes stung, and he thought, "_their going to suffocate."_ his fists clenched and his abdomen burned with hatred. He wanted to yell, scream and throw a fit like a child, but his face held no emotion.

The only betrayal was the hot tear that swam down his cheek; free with abandon, it traveled like a freeway, racing across the surface of his skin to new worlds and foreign ideas, until it reached it's demise, and falling from his chin to the matted green below, was silenced in one instant, one second in time.


	4. Chapter 4

"Is it true?"

Kurt sighed and turned to look at a wide eyed freshman; his coiffed hair dancing with excitement as he leaned over the back of his chair during second period. "Is what true?" he asked bored.

The boy leaned closer, and put his hand to his mouth as he whispered, "That his parents were murdered?"

Kurt didn't have to ask to know that he was talking about Blaine, "You'll have to ask him that."

"Oh, come on," he pressed as Kurt turned his back.

"It's none of your business!" Kurt snapped, his patience slowly waning.

The boy shrunk back from Kurt's tone, "I did ask, but he won't say anything."

"Then leave him alone."

The teacher came through the door, and began writing the day's objectives on the board. Kurt watched the letters, white against the black, take the form of words underneath the man's hand, and he thought Blaine's parents were taken away just as quickly as the words were created. To everyone else, it was just another part of the day, words, news, but to him, it changed everything.

* * *

Blaine ran, his footsteps echoing off the walls as he made his way down the hall again. _This looks familiar, _he thought; same distorted doors and peeling wallpaper, and that door on the right!

His heart leapt and he steadily grew closer and closer to it. If he could only walk a couple more steps he would be able to open it, and find what he was looking for inside!

He stopped suddenly, frowning. What was he looking for inside? _Well this is odd._ He looked down the deserted hall, searching for some clue that would help him, but it remained silent; looming in the darkness, and for the first time, his heart constricted in fear.

He took one step forward, his eyes guarded and felt hands grip his forearms tightly. Wincing, he took a step back, and watched in horror as the door disappeared from his view.

* * *

_Three Years Ago:_

_Blaine sat at his kitchen table, silently eating his cereal while he watched the sun peek through the curtains. _

_ His mother bustled in, all dolled up for work with an apple in one hand, and a stack of folders in another. "How's it going?" She asked, planting a kiss on her son's head._

_ He flushed and ducked out of her embrace, "Moooom," he groaned._

_ She raised her eyebrows at him, "I can kiss my son if I want too."_

_ "What's this about kissing sons?" His father asked as he bounded into the kitchen._

_ "Nothing!" Blaine said quickly._

_ "Honey, who taught you how to tie a tie?" The blond woman said as she began fixing her husband's work attire._

_ Blaine giggled as his father rolled his eyes and grinned at his mother._

_ She took a step back, "Are you rolling your eyes?"_

_ "Nope."_

_ "Liar."_

_ "Guys, get a room."_

_ "You're going to school in a moment right?"_

_ Blaine nodded._

_ "Well then we have nothing to worry about."_

_ Blaine headed out the door to catch his bus. Petals burst from their confined holds, and birds sung early morning tunes while he stood at the end of his driveway. He prayed that those kids wouldn't give him any more trouble today, but when did his prayers ever get answered?"_

_ He boarded the bus, and faced his personal hell._

* * *

It wasn't the way he raced to his side, breathless and panting, that frightened Kurt, it was the words that left his lips, as if he just realized, finally, the reality of the past few weeks.

"They're gone." Blaine collapsed at his side, and curled his fingers into the material of his pants.

"Blaine?"

He bent, hoisting him up like a small child until Blaine was sitting on the sofa next to him.

"They're gone," he whispered again. His voice cracked; peeling away, layers crumbling on the carpet, until what little light in his eyes vanished and they stared, broken.

"Who's gone?" Kurt asked. His fingers ghosted over Blaine's skin, struggling to make a connection, not with his question, but with him.

Blaine turned, silent, before his body shuddered and he folded in on himself.

Kurt stood up to move in front of him, "The funeral was hard for you." He held him protectively, enveloping him with every fiber of his being.

* * *

"What are you writing?"

Blaine looked up into sparkling blue eyes; an ocean of calm, and his heart swelled like he could feel the waves carrying him. "My random thoughts as I think them. My psychologist said that it might help me in some way."

"Is it working?"

"I don't know, do you want to read?"

Kurt nodded as he turned the small notebook in his direction. He didn't miss Blaine's fingers inch towards his hand, and in one swift movement, he captured them in his careful hold.

Blush, cotton candy pink covered Blaine's cheeks, and slowly, he leaned into Kurt's shoulder. He sighed when he felt lips in his hair, and he knew he was okay.

_ Lost, turning back but you stop, hitting a wall and everything is black, silent and your mouth opens up in a scream, but words cease to come out; hiding because you know if you speak that all you will do is speak rubbish, the scene before you unfolding. You look back, laugh with the force of your shudders, violently shaking when at last you crumble in two at the floor by your feet. Disappearing slowly, fading, without your permission, and all you can do is stare at your empty hands to see that your world has been ripped apart in front of you. _

* * *

**Hi everyone,**

**I felt like writing the author's note here instead.**

**If anyone is having trouble figuring out what time certain events take place, do not worry, it will make sense soon, and I'm attempting to illustrate how a traumatic event can impact someone's sense of time and place. **

**Anyways, I hope you liked this chapter, and I do not own glee :)  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**_Hello,_**

**_Chapter 5 is finally here! Now that school is over I will update much more regularly. This chapter is also longer than the one's before it :)_**

**_I don't own Glee._**

* * *

Usually he didn't remember his dreams. Tonight was different; tonight was cold and the future bleak, and he wasn't sure when he would wake up. He lay, twisted, the dream snaking through his thoughts, loud and bright. He winced.

This time, he was standing directly in front of the door, the handle jutting out, waiting for him to turn it. Remembering his surroundings, he glanced down the vacant hallway before turning back to the door. He reached out, and smiled when his hand made contact with the wood. He pushed, and peered around the space as the room beyond made an appearance.

Immediately, he regretted his decision. He stared, feeling sick and took a step back away

from the scene.

His eyes locked on tape; yellow and black, words printed across the space like a message that wouldn't leave. He felt his heart pulse in his throat, and his eyes sting with tears. He continued, backing away, until he hit the wall and screaming, he slid to the floor, covering his face with his hands.

The room, complete with a long wooden table, Persian rug, and sweeping drapes was the murder scene. His parents lay sprawled against the table legs; their clothes ragged and torn, their eyes staring blankly into the darkness.

It wasn't their stares that held him, horrified against the wall, but their open mouths; wide and empty, stuck forever in an eternal scream; the truth on the tips of their tongues, unable to voice the horror they were subjected too, but pushing nonetheless, exhaustion never taking over.

"Blaine, come back."

That voice. Who was it?

"Is he going to be okay?"

"Blaine, I'm going to count down from ten, and when I get to one, you'll open your eyes."

"Ten."

His dining room began to fade.

"Nine."

His fingers tingled, and colors burst behind the lids of his eyes.

"Eight."

The door closed, locking the bodies inside.

"Seven."

Someone shifted, an intake of breath near his ear.

"Six."

Let it be over.

He waited the last few seconds, and slowly regained feeling in his limbs.

"One. Open your eyes when you feel comfortable."

He blinked back blood, dust, and heaviness. Shuddering, his eyes darted back and forth around the office, taking in the clock, window and desk. He hated these exercises.

Kurt was sitting in the seat next to him, a worried expression blanketing his features.

Blaine hated to see him worried. It broke his heart to know that the worry was for him.

"How are you feeling Blaine?"

He looked at the women sitting across from him. She started the exercises, and for that, Blaine _hated _her.

"I'm fine." Kurt squeezed his hand.

She knew he was lying. "Do you want Kurt to leave?"

No I do not want him to leave! I don't want to be HERE!"

"I know."

"Why can't I go!"

"You are mandated to have these sessions. If you would like to talk about something else, we can do that too." She waited. That woman had way too much patience.

Blaine stared back at her, challenging her. She didn't blink.

Kurt sensed the tension. He could slice it with his twenty-five dollar tweezers. This was not good. He squeezed Blaine's hand again, and Blaine faltered. He stood his ground once more, and then sank back into the back of his chair.

"How much time do I have left?" he whispered.

"You have fifteen minutes."

"I finally opened the door."

She crossed her legs and motioned for him to continue.

"I saw them."

"Were they alive?"

"They were dead."

"I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"I think you need too."

"Why?"

"Blaine, your parents were killed. That's a lot of stress, and it is not good to keep that inside. You need to talk."

"What do you want me to say?" He was becoming annoyed again as he spoke. His hands twisted in his lap and he just wanted to open the door and leave. For a moment, he imagined himself standing up, Kurt standing with him, and together they walked right on through the open door. They passed the kind-hearted Secretary with her brightly colored blouses and ventured out into the parking lot where Blaine's Aunt was waiting to pick them up in her Toyota. They were halfway down the parking lot when Blaine realized she had called his name.

"Blaine? Are you okay?"

"Yes" he said sighing. "I feel disgusted, afraid, and sad." He didn't look at her while he spoke, he looked down at his hand intertwined with Kurt's once more.

"Why do you feel those things?"

Blaine stared at the opposite wall as he put his thoughts together. "They were jus-just lying there with-" he trailed off, tears blurring his vision.

"It's okay." Kurt said.

He looked at the younger boy. The tentative smile that pulled at his lips seemed to brighten the room and Blaine melted.

The woman waited, ever so patiently.

"Their eyes were open, but, they couldn't see anymore. I don't know if the people who did this will come after me and I feel like I had something to do with it in some way."

Kurt had to bite down on his lip to keep from gasping.

"Why do you feel like you had something to do with their death?"

He looked at the woman. "Their eyes were open, as if they were staring at me, blaming me for what happened. It was like-like their de_ath_ was a warning to me."

"You had nothing to do with their death. This was not your fault. What you're feeling is not un-common in people who have lost family members, but the important thing for you to know is that you did not have anything to do with what happened to them."

"I can't just stop thinking that I did though."

"You're right. This will take time, but the first step is knowing and really believing that you did not have anything to do with their death."

"What if I can't?"

"You will. You're a strong person, and you will get through this."

* * *

_Seven Years Ago:_

"_Mom, are you okay?"_

"_Yes, dear."_

"_Who were those people?"_

"_They were from the post office."_

"_Mom, I'm not five. They had police badges."_

"_It's nothing for you to worry about it."_

"_They asked about me. Doesn't it concern me?"_

"_No."_

"_Why not?"_

"_Because it doesn't."_

"_That's not an answer."_

"_Blaine, do not talk back to me."_

"_Why won't you tell me the truth?"_

"_Blaine, go to your room."_

"_Did something happen? Are they going to come back? Why did they ask about me?"_

"_Blaine Anderson, go to your room before I ground you."_

"_Fine!" _

"_Blaine!" Mr. Anderson walked downstairs to see what all the fuss was about. _

"_Some policemen came to the door and asked about me! Mom won't tell me why!" Blaine cried. _

"_Blaine, do as your mother asked and go to your room. Now."_

_Blaine trudged upstairs. He made sure to stomp really loud on every single step so his stupid parents would know how angry he was. He reached his room, ripped the door opened and then slammed it shut behind him. _

_When his parents were satisfied that he wouldn't be able to hear him, they sat at the table. His mother put her face in her hands and sobbed quietly. _

"_What did they ask?" _

_She looked at her husband and shook her head. _

"_Please, tell me what they asked you."_

_She wiped at her tear stained face with slender fingers. "They asked me if I would allow them to ask our son questions. I asked what kind of questions, and they said they had reason to believe that he wasn't safe here."_

_His eyes widened. _

"_What did you tell them?"_

"_I asked what they meant by 'not safe,' and they said they got a call from our neighbors who said our house looked suspicious."_

"_That's insane!"_

"_I know, but they were really insistent on talking with him. I told them okay, as long as I was right by his side. They asked him how he was, what he liked to do, if he was being treated alright."_

"_What else?"_

"_They wanted to see his birth certificate."_

"_Did you give it to them?"_

"_Of course. They spend a minute inspecting it from every angle, it scared me so much."_

"_Do you think they'll come back?"_

"_I don't know. I don't know."_

* * *

"Blaine, would you like something to eat?"

Blaine turned on his side to see his Aunt standing in his doorway. She was a wonderful person, but sometimes Blaine thought she worried too much.

"No, thank you."

"Okay. But you need to eat dinner when it's ready in few hours."

"I will."

She crossed the threshold and sat on the edge of his bed. "How was your session? You didn't talk a lot on the ride home, and even when we dropped Kurt off at his house, I thought you would talk more."

"I don't feel like it right now. I talked a lot more in therapy today than I did in weeks, and it made me really tired."

"Okay, I understand. If you want to talk about it, my door is always open."

"I know."

She smiled. "I'll call you when dinner's ready."

"Okay."

Blaine waited until the door clicked shut to turn back over on his other side and stare at the wall. It really wasn't fair. The image of his parent's empty stares was burned into his eyes, and now, after he worked so hard to see them, all he wanted was to forget.

Was that how they looked when they died? Most likely not. Most likely, as his therapist said, the images of his parents were created by his feelings of guilt and anger.

Even if it wasn't his fault, he wasn't sure if those feelings would ever go away.

They were like a part of him now, and even writing didn't work. He would read what he had written and cringe by how dark it was. That wasn't like him. And Kurt, lovely Kurt, would sit by his side and decipher the hidden meanings with him, or just hold him as he wondered what happened next.

It happened more often than not.

Would they ever find out who killed them? And why?

He closed his eyes. Was it even worth it? It wouldn't bring them back. It might just lead to more questions.

He wanted to talk to Kurt. He would know what to do. His own Aunt was walking on egg shells around him because she was afraid that he would snap one of these days.

Who knows?

Maybe he would.

* * *

"Kurt."

"It'll be okay."

"All I can see now is their faces. I see them everywhere. In my sleep, while I'm driving, while I'm eating."

"I know."

"Why do you always say that?"

"Say what?"

"That you know. You don't know."

"I just know how hard it is for you."

Blaine shook his head. "No, Kurt. No, you do not know how hard it is for me. You didn't have your parents murdered while you were at school for an unknown reason. You have your father and Carole."

Kurt frowned. "Yes, but I lost my biological mother when I was really young, Blaine. When I say 'I know' it's because I know what it's like to lose a parent."

"Not in the way that I do."

"Blaine, why are you arguing with me?"

"Because, nobody really KNOWS!"

Kurt sat up from his spot on Blaine's bed and took a deep breath to keep from lashing out. _Blaine is going through a really hard time,_ he thought. _He's not doing this on purpose. _

"Blaine, I think that I need to go home."

"No, please!" Blaine gasped. He reached out to hold Kurt back, his fingers digging into the soft skin of Kurt's arm. "Please, I need you to stay with me."

"Blaine, I think we both need space. This is a really difficult time, for the both of us."

"I didn't mean it."

Kurt sighed. He could see Blaine falling to pieces in front of him, but he knew that he couldn't go down with him. "I understand, Blaine. But I also think that you need to stop trying to bring people down."

"I didn't mean it." Blaine repeated.

"Lay down, Blaine. I'm going to go get your Aunt."

"Don't leave me."

"I'm not leaving. I'm just going home for the night."

"That's leaving."

"I promise, we'll see each other tomorrow."

"Do you still love me, Kurt?"

Kurt tried to hold his emotions inside, but it was so difficult when Blaine was in pieces. "Of course, I love you, Blaine."

"I don't want you to hate me."

"I don't."

"This isn't fair." Blaine whispered as his world went dark.

Kurt turned away, hating himself.

They were both

Broken.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Hello,**_

_**So, even though this is short, we're getting closer to figuring out why Blaine's parents were killed.**_

_**Disclaimer here: Glee isn't mine.**_

* * *

"So, your Aunt told me you didn't want to come in today."

"She's right, I don't."

"Do you want to talk about why you don't want to be here?"

Blaine sighed. "No."

* * *

_Rrrrinng. _"Blaine. Come on, Blaine, this is the fifth time. Pick up! God!" Kurt ended the call and threw his phone at the wall. He was pretty sure that he broke it, but it wasn't like it mattered anyways. Blaine didn't want to talk with him.

"Kurt!" Burt yelled from the bottom of the stairs. "Is everything okay up there?"

Kurt yelled back, "Yup!" He walked over to retrieve his phone. _Everything's just peachy._

* * *

"Ma'am, this is Detective Parker, I'm Detective Smith. May we come in?"

Blaine's Aunt stared at the two men standing on her doorstep. "I need to see some identification."

"Of course."

Once they were inside and seated on the sofa, it was her turn to ask. "Do you have any leads?"

"Actually, Ma'am, we do."

* * *

_Twelve Years Ago_

"_Isn't he adorable?" Mrs. Anderson said as she watched her son run around the playground. _

"_He is."_

"_You don't sound like you mean it, dear."_

"_I mean it."_

_She turned to look at her husband. "If you mean it, then what's wrong? I know that tone."_

"_I just." He looked at his son-not even old enough for school yet-and turned back to look at his wife. "Why do I get the feeling that we're in the wrong here?"_

"_We are doing nothing wrong!" she yelled sharply. She licked her lips and caught another parent watching her carefully. She fixed the woman with a warning glance before inhaling deeply to calm down. "Honestly, dear," she said again. "We are doing nothing wrong."_


	7. Chapter 7

**_Hello,_**

**_I hope after this chapter some questions will be cleared up. There will be one or two more chapters that explain the murder as well as the motive behind it._**

**_Glee is not mine._**

* * *

Blaine's Aunt stared at the detectives in amazement. They had a lead! Blaine was in the middle of a therapy session so he wouldn't know until afterwards, but a lead!

"Well, what kind of lead is it?" she asked excitedly. She was about ready to jump up and call the rest of the family when the two men shared a look.

"Ma'am, we would advise you to calm down," the smaller of the two said.

She glanced nervously between them. "What do you mean?"

"What do you know about your nephew's birth?"

* * *

"Kurt, he just needs a little time." Kurt glared at his father from across the table and huffed his annoyance.

"I don't know what to do to help him."

"Hey, you're doing the best you can." Kurt rolled his eyes. "Kurt, listen to me. It is not your job to make him better, it's your job to show him that you care."

"And I do care!" Kurt exclaimed.

"I know," Burt said calmly. "I know that, and Blaine knows that. Kurt, put yourself in his shoes, he lost his parents in a brutal murder by people who have simply vanished into thin air, and whose motive can't be identified. That's a lot to take in."

"What do I do?"

"Do what you did in the first place; give him some space."

* * *

"What do you know about your nephew's birth?"

Blaine's Aunt was caught off guard by the question. "It was…a normal birth. There wasn't any complications with the pregnancy. Blaine was a healthy baby," she finished.

"Alright, let me ask you a different question. What do you know about your sister?"

"What do you mean?"

"We have reason to believe that your sister and brother-in-law were involved in an investigation that took place seventeen years ago involving a abduction."

She stared at them incredulously. "That's your lead?" she asked slowly.

"No," the detective said shaking his head. "It's a theory that we're formulating based off of our lead." He looked at her carefully while he spoke, looking for any change in her behavior.

She swallowed nervously. "My sister was a good person," she told them. "She wouldn't be involved in a seventeen year old investigation."

"How do you know, Ma'am?"

"What do you mean, 'how do I know?' She's my sister! I know my sister." She stood up and turned to face them. "I think you should leave."

The men stood up and allowed themselves to be let out of the house. "We will be in touch."

She nodded and locked the door but not before hearing, "She's either in denial that her sister could be involved in anything, or she's not telling us something."

Blaine's Aunt walked slowly back towards her sofa and sat down heavily as she tried to hold back tears. Her sister was a good person, she wasn't involved in anything. So then, why did she feel guilt pull at her heart and settle in her stomach?

* * *

_Seventeen Years Ago_

_Mr. and Mrs. Anderson sat at their small kitchen table. "You're keeping him?" Mr. Anderson asked his wife._

"_Yes. Why shouldn't I?"_

"_I don't want to do this."_

"_You don't want to do this?" she repeated. _

"_That's what I said."_

"_We've been trying for years to become pregnant. It is impossible for me, you know that," she exclaimed under her breath as if the neighbors would be able to hear out of the closed windows. "Did you make the adoption papers?" she asked in a hushed manner. "Don't give me that look. Did you make them?"_

"_Yes," he said dejectedly. "I just don't understand why we have to go sneaking around when we could do this the right way."_

"_I've already explained this to you. It would shame my parents to know that I cannot conceive. They would not be okay with an adoption."_

"_So why can't we do it privately!"_

"_You're a senator!" she reminded him. "Word would get out!"_

"_Look, I want a kid just as much as you, but don't you think this is going too far?"_

_She shook her head. "The kid's parents are good for nothing drug addicts who would not be able to give him the life we can. This is for his own good."_

"_We'll get caught." _

_She rolled her eyes. "Did you blackmail them?"_

"_Of course," he sighed._

"_Then there won't be a problem."_

* * *

Later on that night Kurt heard his phone ring while staring at the TV screen and fumbled awkwardly until he was able to look at the contact number: Blaine. He flipped the phone open and pressed it too his ear, "Blaine?"

"Kurt, I am so sorry."

Kurt shook his head relieved to be hearing Blaine on the other end. "No, Blaine. It's me who should be apologizing. I didn't respect your feelings and I know how hard this is for you."

"It's okay, Kurt." Blaine paused. "I called because I didn't know who else to talk too."

Kurt cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder as he got up, "What do you mean?"

"Kurt," Blaine said his voice shaking. "I'm adopted."

Kurt stopped short. "What?"

"When my Aunt picked me up from my therapy session today, she told me she had something serious to talk to me about. Can you come over? I don't want to discuss this all on the phone."

"I'll be there as soon as I can." Kurt clicked the phone shut. What did all of this mean?


	8. Chapter 8

**_Hello,_**

**_this is the final chapter for this story. It's been really fun writing it, and although this chapter may end with many questions unanswered, that is the point.  
_**

**_Insert disclaimer here_**

* * *

As Kurt gathered his things to go to Blaine's house, a million thoughts raced through his head: why did Blaine's parent's keep his adoption a secret? How is Blaine? Did his adoption have anything to do with his parent's murders? He sent a text to Blaine saying he was on his way before heading outside.

Blaine's Aunt's house was much closer to Kurt's house so it would only take Kurt about twenty minutes to reach him. In that time, Kurt let his thoughts mull over in his head and came to the conclusion that he needed to be there for Blaine, regardless of his own shock at the news. He would confide in his own father later.

He pulled into the driveway to see Blaine peering through the curtains in the living room window. They met each other at the door hesitantly, each not sure whether to make the first move or not. Blaine's eyes were rimmed-red and he sniffled from his place in the doorway. Kurt wasn't sure whether to cry with him or gather him in his arms, however, he settled for the latter and felt Blaine go limp against him.

They didn't speak. Words meant nothing to them, and a couple minutes later found them sitting on Blaine's bed in an awkward silence. Kurt curled his fingers around Blaine's hand and said gently, "Tell me about it."

Blaine closed his eyes and reopened them slowly. "My…Aunt told me about an…hour ago how she got a lead from two…detectives who told her that they had reason to believe that my parents were involved in a seventeen year old abduction because my…adoption papers were forged." Blaine hung his head, "They were never going to tell me that I was adopted."

"What else happened?" Kurt asked. He was a little lost. How did Blaine's parent's involvement in a cold case have to do with their death? Unless…the murderer's were Blaine's biological parents. But why did they wait seventeen years to kill the Andersons'? Unless, they were searching for Blaine all this time and finally found him. But why did they have to murder the powerful couple anyway? Was it out of spite or anger? So many questions would be left unanswered for a really long time.

"She said that my…biological parents are suspected to have committed the murder because they were blackmailed by my…other parents. I just don't understand why they had to kill them."

"Did your Aunt tell you how they were blackmailed?" Kurt asked gently, still clutching Blaine's hand.

Blaine shook his head. "No. She doesn't know either, but whatever they did…it must have been really bad."

Kurt paused for a fraction of a second before gathering Blaine in his arms once more. This wasn't fair. It shouldn't have happened to him, and yet, stuff like this happens all the time. Kurt could feel Blaine's face nestled in the crook of his neck, which was already becoming wet with Blaine's tears.

"I'm sorry," Kurt apologized. "I'm so, so sorry," he chanted until Blaine's tears ran dry and he lay exhausted in Kurt's arms.

* * *

One day later:

"Sources confirm that Mr. and Mrs. Anderson were murdered in the home by two people who are rumored to be the biological parents of the teenage boy they leave behind. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson are also confirmed to have forged adoption papers seventeen years ago, which they used as a cover-up to abduct a child who has been missing for almost eighteen years." Kurt watched as Blaine listened intently to the story, which had been named: A Failed Cover-Up, as if Blaine's parents had _failed _to stay alive as they were being murdered.

* * *

One Week Later:

Blaine sat back against the seat in his therapist's office once more. A lot had happened since he had been there last, and he couldn't deny that he had a lot on his mind.

"How do you feel about the recent events?" His therapist began, looking at him intently.

"I have a lot of mixed feelings," Blaine mumbled under his breath.

The woman tilted her head to the right, "Like what?"

"I'm kind of mad at everyone. I'm mad that my parents kidnapped me but made me believe I was their's from birth, and I'm also mad that my biological parents murdered the two people I've spent my entire life with. I feel like my parents have been taken away from me, even though they're not my biological parents."

She nodded. "That's a lot of feelings to process, and it's normal to be mad."

"It just makes me feel guilty."

"That's understandable, and actually really normal too."

Blaine sighed. "When will I stop feeling this way?"

"It will take a while. It will help to talk to your Aunt, Kurt, me and anybody else that you feel okay talking too." She paused, "Talking helps."

* * *

Two Hours Later:

How was your session?" Kurt asked Blaine as they curled up on the sofa to watch a movie, while Carole bustled about in the kitchen.

"It was…okay," Blaine said thoughtfully. "She told me that it would take time for me to…be okay, if that's even the right word, with what's happened." Blaine licked his lips and continued, "I think that I'm glad I know what happened; I feel glad that I'm living with everything out in the open."

Kurt smiled. "It will take time for everything to settle down, but I'm glad you feel that way."

Blaine grinned slowly back.

Some say ignorance is bliss, but what is left unsaid can also lead to dangerous consequences.

* * *

_**End.**_


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